


Planning to Fall

by eevilalice



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Fluff, HP: EWE, Humor, One Shot, Post - Deathly Hallows, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-25
Updated: 2011-11-25
Packaged: 2017-10-26 13:13:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/283586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eevilalice/pseuds/eevilalice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's a perfect day for ice skating.  Unless you're crap at it AND you'd rather be snogging.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Planning to Fall

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Holidays, everyone! This fest certainly put me in the Christmas spirit last year, and I hope this little story helps do its part in doing the same for you. My prompt was ice skating. :)

It was their fourth date, and Draco and Hermione had yet to kiss.

 

Christmas was less than a week away, and this was the last they would see each other until the New Year. Still in its early stages, their developing relationship was a delicate thing, exciting but tentative. A little _too_ tentative, as far as Hermione was concerned.

 

Sitting on a marble bench, Hermione finished lacing up her ice skate and looked anxiously out over the frozen expanse of the pond behind Malfoy Manor. Snow lay on the surrounding evergreens like a thick, white coat, and sunlight glinted off the ice below. The world was hushed and sparkling. Peaceful.

 

Except for the fact that she was about to make a complete arse of herself.

 

“Ready, Granger?” Draco smirked down at her, holding out his gloved hand. She took it, and he pulled her to her feet where she tottered and clutched at his forearms, flushing. He chuckled. “Sure you don’t want me to cast a Cushioning Charm?”

 

“No,” she hurriedly replied, squinting up at him. “I mean, no, thank you,” she added when he raised an eyebrow. “We didn’t have Cushioning Charms when we learned to fly, so I’m positive I can handle this,” she smiled, hoping he wouldn’t point out what a crap flier she was. Even if he only suspected as much.

 

He shrugged. “All right then,” he said in a voice that presaged a future “I told you so.” Turning, he led her to the pond as she gripped his elbow tightly with one hand. It was a treacherous, embarrassingly wobbly trek, and she was quite sure Draco would have bruises on the inside of his arm. She let escape a sigh of relief when they finally reached the ice, forgetting that _now they would be on the ice_.

 

“I thought you said you’d done this once before.” Skepticism was written all over Draco’s face as he took in her continued trepidation.

 

“I have!” Hermione insisted, indignant. “ _Once_ before. When I was a child,” she finished with a mumble, staring down at her white skates, the blades buried in the powdery snow.

 

“Just hold on,” she heard him say, voice chastising but soft, and she looked up into his grey eyes as he took her hands and stepped back onto the ice. Biting her lip, she followed, the ice a hard plane hissing mutedly beneath her skates. He tugged her along several feet while she maintained a death grip on his hands and kept her head bent, eyes fixed on her feet.

 

“Don’t lock your knees. And you’ll lose your balance if you keep hunching over like that.”

 

“I’m not hunching,” she protested but straightened and loosened her stance (if not her grip). He smiled his approval, sharp features softening, pale hair lit warmly by the winter sun. Her breath caught in her throat, an interruption in the small puffs of air between them. He really was bloody gorgeous when he wasn’t being a complete arsehole. Which he hadn’t been since the war’s end five years before.

 

Conscious she’d been staring, Hermione blushed, hoping Draco would mistake it for embarrassment over the skating or the chill of the cold air on her cheeks. “I’m ready to try on my own.”

 

“Are you—”

 

“Yes, I’m sure. Just let go of my hands for now. But don’t go anywhere!” she ordered, sounding like a small, panicked child telling her parents to stay in her room during a thunderstorm.

 

He released her hands and skated backwards a bit to give her some room, sighing dramatically. “When exactly will I get to show off _my_ considerable skills, I wonder?”

 

“Which skills would those be?” Hermione spoke into her scarf, holding her arms out for balance.

 

Draco snorted and tilted his head, apparently not quite sure what her comment meant or exactly how barbed it was intended to be. He watched in alert amusement as she struggled forward, and he moved back to compensate. “I have many skills, Granger,” he drawled.

 

She glanced up in time to see his suggestive smirk, and her insides did a girlish melty thing, like snow soaking in afternoon sun.

 

Which was when she lost her balance and crashed right into him.

 

“Mmph!” Her face was smooshed into his chest, her arms wrapped tightly around his waist. She felt him put his arms around her in turn, holding her up and steadying her.

 

“Shall I add saving Gryffindor maidens inept at ice skating to my list of skills, then?”

 

Hermione looked up from the soft, warm folds of his coat, about to roll her eyes. Instead, she felt her heart pounding against her ribs at his closeness, the scent of his fresh-smelling cologne, his lips _right there_ , parted and sly.

 

His face went serious as he set her on her feet, and Hermione’s heart dropped in her chest. But he didn’t let go; he tightened the arm low around her waist and lifted, leaning down, and her eyelids fluttered closed as she realized he _was_ going to kiss her. _Finally._

 

His lips brushed hers, light and quick, like a smattering of frost on glass, if frost could burn the way Hermione’s body alit. Then he pressed his mouth against hers firmly, and she lifted an arm to clutch at his shoulder, to hold on, to get _closer_. The kiss was long and intense and perfect. Or short and intense and perfect. She honestly had no idea. She half expected it to be dark when she opened her eyes.

 

She did not expect the look of puzzlement.

 

“What?” she asked nervously. Had she done something wrong? Not met his expectations?

 

“How are you doing that?” He looked down between their bodies.

 

 _Oops._

 

During their kiss she had unconsciously raised herself up on the front edge of the blades and balanced there perfectly.

 

“Oh, that,” she grinned, waving it off as if something minor. She had hoped to avoid this particular embarrassment, but the kneazle was out of the bag. Reluctantly withdrawing from his arms, she turned and did a small circuit around the inner edges of the pond, coming to a stop back in front of him. “I may have overstated my skating inexperience,” she confessed sheepishly.

 

“ _May_ have?” Draco repeated incredulously. “You flat out lied, Granger. What, why—?”

 

Hermione was relieved to see that he was more confused than angry and rushed to explain. “Well, you see—”

 

“Wait,” he interrupted, a huge grin spreading across his face. “Did you pretend you couldn’t skate so I’d have to catch you when you fell?”

 

Hermione flushed clear to her cold ears. “Er, yes.”

 

“So that we would kiss?”

 

She nodded, chewing on her still-tingling lips. Before he could say anything else—a reprimand, a joke, an insult—Hermione blurted, “It’s just, we’ve been on a few dates, and you haven’t so much as made a move to kiss me, and we won’t even see each other again until after New Year’s, and—”

 

“Why didn’t _you_ make a move then, Granger?” he stopped her, curious, lip still quirked in amusement.

 

“I, um, wanted there to be a moment,” she said in a quiet voice.

 

“A ‘moment’?” he asked earnestly. Thank Merlin he wasn’t being an arse about this. Yet.

 

“Yes. Some moment that screamed, ‘And now we kiss.’ But we hadn’t had one.”

 

“So you decided to create one artificially?”

 

She bristled at the “artificial” bit but nodded again, waiting for his response.

 

Draco crossed his arms and bowed his head. Silence. He wasn’t…angry, was he? Or hurt? He could be awfully sensitive sometimes.

 

Keeping the same posture, he closed the short distance between them, dropped his arms and peered down at her. “I think that’s very Slytherin of you, Granger. Which,” he moved closer, speaking directly into her ear, low and rough, “is very _enticing_.” His lips traced a path from her ear to her mouth, and he was kissing her again, this time slipping his tongue in to stroke hers, seriously playful and hot and wet. Hermione _would_ have fallen for real this time, but Draco had wrapped his arms back around her, and she reached up to encircle his neck with both of hers.

 

When they finally broke the kiss, Draco wore a devious grin. “Well, there goes _my_ plan, I suppose…” He looked around in an exaggeration of disappointment.

 

Hermione narrowed her eyes but couldn’t stop herself from smiling. “What plan?”

 

“I _had_ rigged the gazebo with strategically placed mistletoe and was going to take you there later, but it seems you beat me to our first kiss, so…”

 

“I’ll race you there.”


End file.
